Murder under the Mistletoe
by EraBlaise
Summary: The newly divorced Narcissa wanted to spend the Holidays with her sisters. Andy with her whole family. Molly just wanted one Holiday when she did not have to slave in the kitchen. Bella Black mostly wanted quiet and whiskey. One knitting club session later, a devilish plan was formed... The Christmas Murder Mystery AU no one asked for.
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing but some weird fantasies, two cakes, and a lollipop. All rights belong to J. K. Rowling, I make no money from this, you know the rest. Reviews are always appreciated and loved.

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Bellatrix Black wondered why in the name of Merlin's hairless balls did she agree to this whole scheme. She hated the Holidays and she hated to be around people. But despite what most people thought, she did love her sisters, even if one of them had the sense - or lack of it -, to marry a muggleborn and get herself disowned two decades ago. Narcissa on the other hand did the right thing and married a respectable pureblood wizard. The fact that he was a bastard never mattered much to their parents and the thought that they were probably turning in their graves because she had the audacity to finally divorce the asshole filled Bella with glee.

This love towards her annoying sisters was the only reason she said yes when they approached her to spend Christmas together. That, and it was the only thing that would finally make them shut up. She thought she could handle it, one family dinner, opening some gifts, some mindless chatter… with the help of Ogden's finest she could have survived that. Instead, she found herself in an inn somewhere in the middle of nowhere of the English countryside. The place wouldn't have been so bad, she mused, although the design was much more cozy than she would have liked it. But the thing that annoyed her the most was the fact that The Pale Horse Inn was so conscious of protecting their guest's privacy that one could not appearate nor floo to or out. The place was almost as protected as bloody Hogwarts and she briefly wondered while taking a sip of her firewhiskey how much this whole sad affair cost to Cissa. Not that she could not afford it after milking that peacock Lucius in the divorce. Cissa was smart, she had to give that to the woman. She made sure Bella could not escape and had to stay the whole five days they agreed upon. Well, she did not really agree. But, here she was, wondering not for the first time what the two women she was currently sitting with in the comfortable sitting room of the inn were hiding from her.

Because make no mistake, they were hiding something. Bella Black did not make Detective Chief Inspector of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement by disregarding details. Andromeda's claim that it would be just her daughter's merry little family who joined might have sounded sincere but she noticed how she avoided looking into her eyes while saying that. Narcissa's careless wave when she told Bella that of course there would be other people there, it was an inn after all, wasn't as careless as she wished it to be. Their secrecy was part of the reason she said yes to this whole fiasco. They were hiding something and she would find out what.

Andy's klutz of a daughter with her little boy and werewolf husband was already with them, currently up in their room putting the boy down for a nap. Draco was sitting across from Bella in a dark armchair, a butterbeer held in his hand just a bit too tight for someone who was supposed to be relaxing. There were other patrons Bella had already seen - a lovesick young couple that made her want to barf and an elderly gentleman sitting near to the fireplace in a suit that did little to hide the fact that he enjoyed food and drinks too much. He had a large red nose and generous white whiskers. He was talking in a loud voice about something to an old hag who was knitting next to the fire, her eyes looking at the man with undisguised amusement. If Bella was a betting woman she would have bet that the old lady did not believe a single word from his boasting, and probably rightly so.

Bella lazily flicked her eyes back from the sight she was studying, in time to witness Andromeda glancing at the clock for what seemed like the tenth time and nervously lick her lips before taking a sip from her tea. Draco fidgeted in his seat and Narcissa's voice trembled as she went on talking about some new shop in Diagon Alley. Bella's dark eyes narrowed and she hid the small curve of her smile behind her glass. Whatever they were hiding was about to reveal itself.

Putting together the facts that the man who brought them here with a horse drawn coach left about twenty minutes ago and the ride from the station took about ten when they arrived, she was sure he was about to get back. In the company of, she was also sure, of some respectable woman her sisters wanted to set her up with. She let out a deep sigh, earning herself some nervous glances.

Ever since they came to accept her likes some five years or so ago, (Cissy needed some more convincing about her not wanting a husband than Andy), the blonde woman was determined that if Bella would not settle down with a respectable pureblood man then she would have to settle down with a respectable pureblood woman. Bella, of course, had no intention of settling down. She was perfectly content on her own with her job.

It was no wonder that the distant sound of the opening of the front door piqued her interest, despite the fact that she did not move a muscle upon hearing it. She kept sitting sprawled upon the armchair with her hand holding her drink, her companions however, gave every sign of having expected someone. Andy turned towards the sounds, even though she could not have seen the front door through the archway that separated the lobby from the sitting room, and Draco visibly tensed, taking a nervous sip of her mug. Bella allowed herself a lazy smile - it was showtime.

Much later, Draco would remark that the image of her aunt Bella's mouth falling open in pure shock at the sight of his mother getting up and warmly greeting Molly Weasley with a hug and kisses would forever be the greatest Christmas present he received.


	2. Chapter 2

To say that Bella was bewildered, would have been an understatement. She was sure the whole world went bonkers. She was so shocked and confused by the situation that she had not uttered a single word ever since Molly Weasley and her family entered the sitting room like a hurricane and sat themselves down, pulling a large couch closer to their little circle to make sure everyone was comfortable.

As Narcissa asked Molly about their trip to the inn she swiped her gaze across their little gathering. Draco had reclaimed his seat in the armchair across from her after greeting the newcomers in a surprisingly friendly and familiar manner, his body turned towards the side where on a faded red couch four teenagers sat in various levels of comfort. Or rather, discomfort.

Bella never claimed to be familiar with the Weasley clan but she had listened to Andy's rambling about Tonks' friends enough to know this definitely was not the whole litter sitting on the couch. She let her gaze settle on the young, athletic looking girl on the armrest of the couch, talking to Draco about a Quidditch match. She decided that the ginger girl was one of Molly's. So was the lanky, sullen boy sitting on the other end of the furniture, his long legs stretching out far and resting under the coffee table. But the boy and girl sandwiched between the ginger bookends did not make sense. Bella was pretty sure if the Weasleys had bastards she would have known that by now through the Ministry gossip line.

No, those two did not belong to the collection, she mused with a sip of her drink that was emptying fast.

It was, Bella decided as she listened to Narcissa mention knitting to a delighted Molly, who for some reason was immune to the awkward atmosphere that seemed to choke everyone besides her, it was definitely time to figure out what the Hippogriff was going on here.

The sound of Bella clearing her throat made Narcissa's words stop, and everyone besides Arthur Weasley who was busy admiring a clock that was on the coffee table, froze. The children all found the carpet very interesting. Andy had found some hidden secret in her tea cup. Molly blushed a deep red. Arthur continued to be a clueless idiot and Narcissa took a healthy sip of her wine.

"Someone care to explain what is going on here?" Bella asked finally, her gaze wandering around the circle, stopping on each women for a moment.

There was an uncomfortable silence, only broken by the hearty laughter of the old fat man by the fire who was obvious to the tension in the room, but the fragile lady he was entertaining watched them with curious eyes, like a hawk.

Narcissa cleared her throat.

"Of course Bella, I forgot you were not familiar with our guests." The dark woman raised an eyebrow at her words. This wasn't what she meant but she long ago learned that if she wanted to get information out of their youngest sister, it was best to let her talk on her own.

"Of course you know Molly and Arthur," at this the matriarch of the Weasley family smiled at her but there was a nervous tinkle in her eyes. "These are their children, Ginevra and Ronald." Narcissa motioned towards the two ginger bookends with her head before continuing. "And their friends Hermione Granger and Harry Potter." The two teenagers smiled uncomfortably and the girl murmured a greeting, but Bella's eyes did not stray from the blonde next to her.

"And why are they here?" Bella asked bluntly, her blood red nails digging into the material of the armchair as she grounded herself.

"Because I invited them." Narcissa's voice was haughty, daring her sister, and if her intention was to make Bella even angrier, it was working. Bella was trying her hardest not to take the bait.

"And you invited them because…" She drawled, fishing for the real answer, enjoying the discomfort that spread out amongst them with every passing second.

"It was my idea," broke in Andy and Bella's head swivelled into her direction with the grace of a panther stalking its prey.

"Cissa wanted to spend the Holidays with her sisters and I wanted to spend it with my whole family. Molly and Arthur invited Dora and Remus for the holidays since Harry was spending it with them as his parents are away on a cruise." Bella marvelled on the fact that Andy managed to say all this with a single breath, her voice staying steady. "I wanted to spend it with my side of the family," Andy put a special emphasis on the words _her side of the family_, "and Cissa wanted to spend it with me. We compromised," she finished, taking a hearty sip of her tea, desperately wishing she would have taken Cissy's offer of something alcoholic on. Her elder sister was entirely too calm and she was afraid it was just the calm before the storm.

Up until this point, a part of Bellatrix had been amused- not overly so, but enough to humour her sisters. But now, she was starting to become livid. How dare they thrust her into the company of such people? What fools were they to believe she would swallow down this?

She turned her head, her mouth opening in what would be a yell at her sister, Narcissa, to reprimand her and to make sure she understood Bella was leaving this instant… but there was something in the blonde woman's ice blue eyes that made her stop. Begging and… loneliness. She understood loneliness, it was her life after all, but to see her little sister suffer from it… she closed her eyes and clenched her jaw shut, the muscles twitching in her face. Narcissa watched her, the silent scream in her mind that yelled "Please" at her sister echoing in Bella's mind like a distant bell. Bella could taste Cissy's desperation on the tip of her tongue, an acidic taste she wished to wash down with more firewhiskey but her glass hung empty in her hand.

"Wotcher, guys!" Tonks voice with its genuine cheerfulness might as well had been a cannon shot at the battlefield the way it shattered Bella's defences. Who was she to deny the only people she cared about the happiness they deserved? God knows their blood family was never one for loving Holidays and they had every right to make merry with the family of their choosing. Bella's shoulders sagged, the movement light enough that it would have escaped the notice of most people but Narcissa's eyes lit up and she smiled at the sulking woman. Bella rolled her eyes at her and the tension slowly eased when Molly asked Tonks about Teddy.

Bella would probably survive this whole fiasco but she would definitely need another drink.

She stood up, her quick movement making Andy's voice falter and Bella let out a grunt that even she was not sure what it meant. She did not care, her only focus the bar area in the back of the sitting room, a fixture she found a bit unorthodox when she first came in but now she was glad for it. The closer the drinks were to her, the better time the others would have.

She placed down her empty tumbler on the bar, the glass making a dull sound and she tapped it with her nail a few times to listen to the pretty clinking sound. She grew up in money and she knew how expensive glassware sounded like - and this one was definitely expensive. She would drink on Narcissa's tab, she decided.

"You, boy…" she waited until the twenty-something, dark haired man stood in front of her on the other side of the bar, looking at her with a friendly smile that made Bella's teeth ache. Bellatrix had to give him credit because the boy only hesitated a second before unscrewing a bottle and pouring for her.

"You seem like a smart boy…" she glanced at his name tag, "Doyle." She remarked conversationally.

"My mother likes to think that, yes," he answered in a deep, bemused voice and Bella raised an eyebrow. Cheeky lad.

"I do not want to see this glass empty again," she indicated her glass, sloshing the contents around, the scent of whiskey reaching her nose.

"As you wish, Miss Black," Doyle nodded, the smile that infuriated Bella not leaving his face. It was a handsome face, Bella supposed, if one was into that manly, confident kinda face with a strong jaw. Bella was not.

"The tab…" she questioned with a small tilt of her head.

"I was left instructions that everything should be put on Miss Black's…" he hesitated and Bella narrowed her eyes dangerously. "On Miss Narcissa Black's tab," he clarified, the first hint of unease on his face as his hand went to adjust his tie.

Bella nodded and turned back the way she came from, her steps only faltering for a second when she heard the words "I just cannot get the hang of that pattern, dear Molly," leaving the lips of Narcissa.

See first chapter for disclaimers.

Bella threw herself down on what she decided would from now on be her armchair and snorted, gathering the attention of several people in their circle but she stared to the side at the fireplace, pretending they were not there. Her eyes met the old hag's who was, ironically, knitting, and she willed the old pussycat to look away but she held Bella's gaze with an amused expression.

She really hoped Doyle was a smart boy.


	3. Chapter 3

As usual, I own nothing save a battered old notebook. This is mostly a filler chapter, but I promise we will get back to our favourite Black ladies soon. Thank you for the reviews!

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There was something rather peaceful about snow, Mrs. Rodrick mused as she stared outside through the window of her parlor. It made the world quiet and magical, although she knew very well the world was full of magic if one knew where to look. Still, she enjoyed this piece of ordinary magic, if you will, and the way a moment spent gazing outside felt as if it lasted an hour. She did not have that much time, of course, she sighed before blowing on the teacup in her right hand, her left holding the saucer as she stood in front of the mute countryside. Outside might have been silent but she could already hear the sounds of the kitchen, the staff of the inn busy even in the early morning.

She often wondered about the name, more so in her early years of employment some 15 years ago than nowadays. Why did someone decide to derogate the gorgeous mansion with its many rooms to a mere inn? The name suggested something much smaller than what it was. But as her duties increased she ceased to wonder about the delicate details of the establishment. If the owner wished to call it an inn, then she would be the proud housekeeper of an inn. There were worse things to do in the world and despite common knowledge that she was a heartless tyrant, she held a kind of… affection towards the people working under her and towards The Pale Horse Inn. It had been her home for many years and with some luck, it would be her home for many more to come.

It was as Mrs Rodrick feared - the kitchen was in complete disarray. Not more than usual, of course, and to be frank she would have been more worried if it was not, but she shot a glance at the clock on the wall with a disapproving look anyway.

Mrs Barter was aware of the steely gaze of Mrs Rodrick surveying her domain and after a quick glance at the clock, she let out a small snort. They had plenty of time to get ready with breakfast, just plenty but it would not do to tell that to the housekeeper, she knew that. That woman was like a general, managing his troops on the battlefield. Precision, discretion, efficiency, and calmness - those were Mrs Roderick's most prized principles and although she often snorted at the dark-haired strict woman who rather reminded her of an old Professor of hers, she admired her. Not loudly and in front of everybody of course, but even she had to begrudgingly admit that the woman knew how to manage a household. But she quite often wished she would not try to rule it from her kitchen. Feelings aside, work had to be done and territories had to be claimed and protected.

"Mary, take up that tray for Mrs Higgins, chop chop, don't let the tea go cold!" Mrs Barter ushered the young girl out from the kitchen, and despite her harsh tone Mary was smiling a bit as she exited the busy room - both of them knew quite well that the tea would not go cold. Blankie, the house elf shook her head a few times. She had been a kitchen elf here for many years but there were some things the humans said that she still didn't quite get. Missus Barter knew well that all teapots were charmed to keep warm and she was sure Mary, after a year working here, knew that too, even if she was a squib. Humans could be rather strange sometimes…

"Mrs Rodrick, you needed something?" Rang out the voice of Mrs Barter, accompanied by the clanging of pots. Like that, Blankie mused as she set a sponge to clean the dishes. What Missus Barter really meant was something like: "Any reason you are standing in the middle of my kitchen?" or even, "Do you think you could do my job better than I?", and yet her words said something different.

"Just wondering if you needed help," answered Mrs Rodrick, her hands clutched in front of her body, her back straight in her dark robes. Blankie bit back a giggle. Again, she knew the housekeeper meant something like "Just keeping an eye on the kitchen," yet those weren't her words. Missus Barter and Mistress Rodrick had this conversation every morning when they were preparing food for the guests and it took her some time to realize the real meaning of their words. They were a bit like house elves, she mused as she arranged the sausages on a plate, making sure the other knew that they were good at their jobs, although house elves would have said it out plain and loud. Strange were the ways of humans, indeed.

The thought that this was a strange place ran through the mind of Mary quite a few times as well, especially during her early days a year ago. The owner - a quite mysterious fellow, she never met him -, was peculiar about how things should be done in the inn. First of all, they should not use magic in front of the guests (Mary was a squib anyway so that really did not concern her), nor to prepare the food. That one she found weird but she had to admit that food prepared without magic, or with minimal magic, did taste better than cooking with a wand. Missus Barter rarely used magic but Mary knew she was a witch, and sometimes in the late evenings when all work was done and they sat in the kitchen having a cup of tea Missus B told her things about Hogwarts and her common room near the kitchen and she cherished those stories very much. Mary long ago grew comfortable with the thought that she was an outsider in the magical world, not fully belonging to it, but a side of her, the side that was still a child never gave up on the hope of visiting Hogwarts. That was probably why she liked the inn's uniform so much. They were given comfortable shoes and high-quality dark pants with white shirts and cardigans for the colder months and all their clothing included the inn's crest, the image of a handsome white horse on a hill and their names, both beautifully embroidered by an old widow in the nearby village.

For the first time in her short life, Mary felt she belonged somewhere; and even if that place was a luxurious magical inn that wanted to look and feel as if it was still the beginning of the 20th century, well… there were worse places to belong to.

It was thus with a certain amount of pride that Mary carried the silver breakfast tray down the corridor, stopping in front of room number 11, often referred to as the Flower room, since its walls were covered in gorgeous wallpaper that featured half a dozen kind of flowers, and carefully balancing one end of the tray on her upraised knee, she knocked.

Although the inn prided itself on the fact that they used almost no amount of magic, if one looked behind the scenes, this was not true. Hidden magic ran through the whole building and those who knew what to look for knew about it. Mary herself only knew some of the tricks of the house, as she liked to call them. She was sure Mrs Rodrick or Missus B knew more but she never dared to ask for more information than what she was given.

Mary watched the brass numbers carefully. There was no use in listening for an answer from inside the rooms, the heavy doors made it impossible to hear anything, especially if the inhabitant was an elderly lady like Mrs Higgins. But the brass numbers flashed for a moment and tinkled although they were not touched - it was so subtle that if you weren't looking out for it you would not have noticed. It was the sign of someone calling out the word "enter" or "come in" from the other side of the door.

In the first few months, Mary did not always notice it and often stood outside in awkward silence, but now she had no trouble gracefully and confidently opening the door.

The Flower Room had the charm of an old but well-loved place and Mary noted how the old lady fit into it well. Smart thinking from Mrs Rodrick to put her in here, she supposed.

"Good morning, Mrs Higgins," she greeted her with a big smile, her mannerism polite and welcoming. "Did you have a good night?" She asked the woman sitting in front of the fireplace that was emitting gentle warmth.

"Oh yes, the bed is quite comfortable, yes…" assured the lady as Mary set the tray on the coffee table in front of her. She would have ordinary placed it on the writing desk but Mrs Higgins motioned her to set it in front of her. According to Mrs Rodrick, she should not put the breakfast tray there, but if the guest asked for it, she was allowed.

Mary liked to follow Mrs Rodrick's words exactly as the housekeeper always seemed to know when she did not and her words were sharp enough to cut.

"Oh, that looks like a splendid breakfast!" exclaimed Mrs Higgins and looked up at Mary who smiled back her usual charming smile.

"Mrs Barter, our cook, will be very happy to hear that," she told her, wondering what was that splendid about the old woman's breakfast. She ordered toast, tea and a hard-boiled egg in her room for every morning of her stay and Mary found that bland and lacking. Blankie put some jam and butter on the tray as well, just in case, but she still had doubts about how it could be considered splendid.

"Anything else I can do for you?" she asked, bowing down a bit to be closer to the old woman. Mrs Higgins spoke with a quiet, gentle strength that was easy enough to understand and there was an aunt like quality to her person that made Mary like her.

"No dear, everything is perfect," said Mrs Higgins with a smile and Mary stood up straight, quite happy to leave the old woman to her meal and get on with her other duties.

"Although I wonder…" started Mrs Higgins in a halting manner, and Mary took a step back towards her, ready to help. "There was a rather big company in the sitting room last night and…" here she stopped, looking apologetic. "I am not one for gossip, dear," she explained and Mary bit back a smile. "But one of the women was quite familiar, Narcissa Black I believe…" she trailed off, looking at Mary with curious eyes.

Mary bit her lip nervously. Gossiping about the guests was very high up on Mrs Rodrick's "do not" list and despite liking the little old lady she was very scared of the charismatic housekeeper.

"You see," elaborated Mrs Higgins, feeling that the maid only needed a bit more convincing. "I knew her when she was quite young but she would have obviously changed and… well, my memory isn't what it used to be," she said with a small smile and Mary listened to her words in contemplation, frowning a bit. She was looking down on the carpet, thinking, while Mrs Higgins watched her carefully, her head tilted to the side.

Marry supposed it wasn't really gossiping, the lady was just asking about someone she used to know…

"It is. Miss Black, I mean," she started hesitating and Mrs Higgins nodded to encourage her. "She is here with family and friends for the Holidays," finished Mary, taking a few steps towards the door, trying to escape more questions. She did not want to get in trouble with Mrs Rodrick.

"Oh, how wonderful," smiled Mrs Higgins, and for the first time, Mary felt a bit of doubt about the sweet old lady. There was something almost… calculating in her smile and Mary put her hand on the doorknob, desperate to go now.

"If that's all…" she questioned and Mrs Higgins smiled gently and thanked her, and so when Mary walked down the corridor she forgot all about that one moment of uncertainty. All she later remembered was how well Mrs Higgins fit the small, well-loved room with her old dressing gown and splendid breakfast.

Mrs Higgins sipped her tea in silence, watching the fire although her mind was far away. This place, very nice with a certain old charm, was not what it seemed like at first glance. Upon arriving yesterday she wrote down the whole experience as spending a week in a boring inn in the middle of nowhere. It was very nice of her nephew to arrange it for her of course, but she found no enjoyment in the prospect of listening to that buffoon talk all week. Dumbledee, or whatever his name was. A liar, if there ever was one. Oh, there was some truth to his stories, but not a lot, she mused as she refilled her cup.

Nice, ancient piece of China, something she would have used in her youth. But there was definitely magic in the air around that simple object, no matter how hard the inn boasted about "bringing our guests back to the muggle time of king Edward". Wizards were too proud not to use magic, she knew that. And there was the case of the teapot as well - she had been sitting there with it for a good thirty minutes and the little tea it still contained was exactly as warm as before. A simple charm but magic even so and a subtle one - by charming the object the material it contained would not be charmed. That would, technically, still mean that no magic was used in making it, as the brochure of the inn said. Interesting but not very surprising, she supposed. Many wizarding folks wants to know what it is like to live without magic and yet wants the comforts of magic while experiencing it.

And then there were the other guests, she mused as she readied for the day. The bull of a man who talked her ear off last night, Albert something. Not a particularly interesting human being, a bit of an alcoholic and a liar, but a good fellow in the end. The young couple wasn't anything special, either. But that curious company in the middle of the room… She paused with her hairbrush halfway towards her head.

This was the last place she would have imagined meeting the infamous Black sisters. She knew some of their history, of course, although it had been many years… around 20, she supposed. She still remembered what the society ladies used to say, their mouths filled with distaste.

"The disappointment, the disgrace, and the diamond…" she whispered absentmindedly as she charmed her long, grey hair into an elegant bun. She herself always thought those were ill-fitting names for them. The eldest one, Bellatrix had a quite respectable career, if a bit unconventional. The middle girl… she could not remember her name, but she remembered the scandal when she ran away with a muggleborn boy. She knew she was a talented healer now. The smallest one on the other hand… She always wondered about little Narcissa. The people-pleaser, she called her in her mind. Never quite stood up for herself and did what was expected of her. She was glad to read about the youngest sister's divorce in the papers - it was high time she stood up for herself, she just pitied it took her so long.

But she could not, for the love of Morgana's crows, figure out how the most spotless member of high wizarding society came to be on "spending the holidays together" level with the Weasley family.

Mrs Higgins put her knitting and a spare ball of yarn in her little handbag and closed it with a snap. She would take up a comfortable seat in the sitting room, where she could survey everything and knit. If she was lucky, they would come in before lunch, and the sight of her knitting would invite Molly Weasley for a conversation. Later she could introduce her to the Black sisters and she could figure out this whole mystery. Yes, she nodded to herself, she would have a bit of fun figuring this out.

Because, despite what she told that charming, if a bit naive maid, Diana Higgins never had the pleasure of meeting Narcissa Black.


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